sweet, sonsie lass. In short, she, altogether unwittingly to
herself, initiated me in that delicious passion, which in spite of
acid disappointment, gin-house prudence, and book-worm philosophy,
I hold to be the first of human joys here below! How she caught the
contagion I cannot tell.... Indeed, I did not know myself why I liked
so much to loiter behind with her, when returning in the evening from
our labors; why the tones of her voice made my heartstrings thrill
like an AEolian harp; and especially why my pulse beat such a furious
ratan when I looked and fingered over her little hand, to pick out the
cruel nettle-stings and thistles. Among her love-inspiring qualities,
she sung sweetly; and it was her favorite reel to which I attempted
giving an embodied vehicle in rhyme. I was not so presumptuous as to
imagine that I could make verses like printed ones, composed by men
who read Greek and Latin; but my girl sung a song which was said to be
composed by a country laird's son, on one of his father's maids, with
whom he was in love; and I saw no reason why I might not rhyme as well
as he; for, excepting that he could shear sheep and cast peats, his
father living in the moorlands, he had no more scholar-craft than
myself. Thus with me began love and poetry."

[Illustration: ROBERT BURNS
From the portrait by Nasmyth]

The song that was due to this boyish passion is called "Handsome
Nell," and is said to be the first he wrote. It can be found in any
complete edition of the poet's work. In after years he himself calls
it puerile and silly, but, while lacking the exquisite perfection of
Burns' later lyrics, it is far superior to the usual first attempts of
poets. The last two stanzas run thus:

A gaudy dress and gentle air
May slightly touch the heart;
But it's Innocence and Modesty
That polishes the dart.

'Tis this in Nelly pleases me,
'Tis this enchants my soul!
For absolutely in my breast
She reigns without control.

"I composed it," says Burns, "in a wild enthusiasm of passion, and to
this hour I never recollect it but my heart melts, my blood sallies at
the remembrance."

Poor Burns! How much happier he would have been had all his loves been
as innocent as this first experience! In one of Tennyson's most
vigorous passages in the _Idylls_ we read,

... for indeed I knew
Of no more subtle master under heaven
Than is the maiden passion